


Imaginary Husbands of the African Savanna

by Mosca



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Female Friendship, Frenemies, Gen, Sports Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/pseuds/Mosca
Summary: Joe Crede of the Chicago White Sox might not, in fact, be the only man for Dana.





	Imaginary Husbands of the African Savanna

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this to my Livejournal in January 2006, as a gift for thelionforreal in the Female Gen Ficathon.
> 
> I have revised this slightly from the version in LJ to change a word that was not widely recognized as a slur in 2006, but is now.
> 
> This takes place in 2005, shortly after the White Sox won the World Series and significantly after the series finale of Sports Night.
> 
> Thanks to Sandyk and Distraction for beta reading, CSP for help with baseball research, and Ducky's mom for inspiration.

Dana was in love. Some might have called it a schoolgirl crush, but Dana had been around the block a few times, and she knew that what they shared was real. The object of Dana's affection was Joe Crede, third baseman for the Chicago White Sox. The world champion Chicago White Sox, as she would not hesitate to clarify if anyone asked her about her love for Joe. She admitted that there were obstacles: he was married and lived in Chicago, and his boyish good looks betrayed the strong possibility of intellectual disability. But in Dana's eyes, he was perfect and beautiful, not to mention admirable for playing through the pain of two herniated disks. She thought that his being married was a good sign: it meant that he was marriage material. If Joe Crede were to get a divorce, move to New York, experience a sudden increase in IQ, and fall in love with Dana, chances were, he would follow through. Dana had worked in sports journalism for quite a few years, and this line of work had taught her just how essential it was to have good follow-through.

One night, feeling punchy, Dana cut a picture of Joe Crede out of an old _Sports Illustrated_ and taped it to the control room desk. Looking at him made her more confident in her producing abilities. His mild face and powerful home-run-hitting biceps had a calming effect. Natalie approved of Dana's addition to the control room décor. "Your baseball husband should have a place of honor," she said. Natalie, who had been loyal to Derek Jeter for as long as Dana had known her, understood baseball husbands. She understood, for instance, that it did not constitute polygamy to also have a basketball husband, a football husband, and a tennis husband. Sports husbands were happy to share. And they were happy to step aside for real-life boyfriends, although they were always there for you when you didn't have one.

However, the next morning, Dana was alerted to the fact that not all women intuit the rules of imaginary husbands. If anyone would lack such intuition, it would be Sally Sasser, and Sally seemed to think nothing of violating the sacred rules of sports-fan fantasy. She cornered Dana as if Dana were some meaty, spindly-legged animal of the African savanna, a springbok or gazelle. She produced the Joe Crede picture as if it were her carnivorous fangs. "Is this yours?" she said.

"You took Joe Crede off the control room desk," Dana said.

"Is that who this is?"

"Why did you take Joe Crede off the control room desk?" Dana said. "He was happy there."

"I didn't realize it was Joe Crede," Sally said.

"You know, you have a way of making your unpleasant behavior that much worse. Just _that_ much." Dana squinted and squeezed her fingers together. "Does it involve some kind of twisting motion?"

"Not to my knowledge," Sally said.

"Because if there's no twisting motion, I can't see how you could do things in the order you do them. First, remove a picture that someone had obviously taped to the control room desk on purpose. Second, confront the culprit as if the picture were inconveniencing you in some way. Third, upon realizing that you have been an asshole, fail to apologize. There's twisting in there. Powerful twisting."

Sally looked down at the picture. When she looked back up at Dana, her too-pretty face seemed to have crumpled, like Dana had kicked her in the kidneys with her powerful springbok hind legs. Dana wanted to feel jubilant - take that, predator of the African savanna - but there was an element of flat anticlimax in wounding Sally. Sally, who had wounded her so much worse and would again, and without remorse.

"You have to admit, he has a forgettable face," Sally said.

"It's not forgettable," Dana said, snatching the picture from Sally's hand. "It's sweet and - and - and _dependable_."

"Dependably forgettable," Sally said.

"Some of us like that in a man," Dana said.

Sally tilted her head to the side and flashed her very meanest beauty-queen smile. "Why?"

"Because - because - because -" Dana felt herself lapsing into a Cowardly Lion moment, emotionally as well as lyrically. 

Sally folded her arms. "It's because you settle." 

"I do not - _settle_ ," Dana said. "Where do you get off saying that I settle? Joe Crede is one of the best third basemen in the American League. He's a winner _and_ an underdog. He's good-natured and professional and -"

"Boring. Safe," Sally said. She took the photo back. "To the point where he looks intellectually disabled."

Dana wanted to fight, but Sally had chosen the one insult to Joe Crede's honor that Dana could not argue with. "He does, doesn't he?" she said with something between a sigh and a laugh. "More than slightly. Sally, why do I choose men who look intellectually disabled?"

"I don't know," Sally said. "It's a thing that has always perplexed me about other women."

"Maybe if we asked around," Dana said. "Maybe if we asked around, someone would know why we pick them."

"The picking isn't the problem. The problem is keeping them," Sally said.

"Are you saying I should break up with Joe Crede?"

"Far be it from me to give you advice on how to conduct your meaningless gestures," Sally said.

"I should break up with him," Dana said. "I'm breaking up with him. Right here, right now, in front of God and everyone, I am breaking up with Joe Crede." She got up on an unoccupied desk and stomped her feet. "Everybody listen up," she shouted. "Joe Crede is no longer my imaginary husband. I am a freewheeling single girl, open to intimate imaginary relationships with any number of eligible infielders. As of this moment, I am letting go of Joe." She took the picture from Sally, held it up in front of her, and tore it in half. "I'm letting go," she repeated.

She got down off the desk to find a wastebasket for the remains of poor rejected Joe Crede. Someone had started up a round of sarcastic applause, but Dana had long since learned to ignore those. "You still can't have Derek," Natalie said as Dana passed by.


End file.
